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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177614">Don't open the door</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleduty/pseuds/appleduty'>appleduty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>At Least To Begin With, Aziraphale entertains Crowley's delusions of being a top tier evil entity, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is a doofus, Gen, Halloween, Night, POV Outsider, a nice flavor of creepypasta, abandoned doors in the middle of nowhere, distant spooky violin, thick spooky fog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:27:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleduty/pseuds/appleduty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A teenager walks into a stereotypical creepypasta, staged by a very evil entity. Reality is a suggestion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SOSH - Guess the Author #07 "Big Spooky Fan Me."</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Don't open the door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a heads up: This was written in a 40 minute frenzy and it shows, but I'm keeping it as is.<br/>Written for SOSH guess the author prompt "Big spooky fan, me!"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>David doesn’t know what has driven him this far into the woods. Or how the cold fog rolled in so quickly across the field. It’s so thick that he can barely make out ten meters ahead of him. Well, this is better than the pretentious Halloween party he felt a sudden urge to drop out of. He’d been in the middle of a tiring conversation about the subtext of the Scream films, when he had felt a sudden urge to put his jacket on and walk out the back door. And then he’d kept walking.</p><p>Perhaps it was the very intriguing whispers, urging him on, so subtle he wasn’t sure if they were his own imagination. Gentle words of ‘go on, just a bit more, you really want to see this.’</p><p>There was a distant melody playing. Was it a violin? It sounded unreal. Like it was filtered through a dream long forgotten.</p><p>David doesn’t know how long he’s walked when he finds himself where he is now. In the middle of a field, with no visible light sources, surrounded by fog. The sticky sort of fog that finds its way underneath all your layers of clothes and stays there.</p><p>The only sound accompanying him has been the blasted violin, and the sound of dry leaves crushing beneath his feet. But he notices with growing alarm that everything is suddenly quiet, even though he is still walking. There’s a definite sensation of air pressure dropping. And a growing tingle through his entire spine, like when you’re on the precipice of the steepest hill of a rollercoaster. </p><p>When the Door appears in front of him, he knows in his core that it’s the source of all this. It’s a simple door, in the middle of the field, pristinely white with not so much as a speck of dirt on it. </p><p>David suddenly knows that he absolutely shouldn’t be here. The smell of ozone spreads itself like a thick blanket across the field. </p><p>David knows he should go back. Instead, he lifts his shaking hand, and rests it on the doorknob. It’s warm.</p><p>He opens the door.</p><p>He closes it again.</p><p>He runs.</p><p>“Never gets old.”</p><p>“What’s next, Crowley? Rattling of chains in the attic? Words of affirmation written in red paint on a mirror?”</p><p>“Oi. Some of my best work, that was. And besides, this kid will be the most popular in school with the story he has to tell after this. Perhaps even on reddit.”</p><p>“Aha! I knew you had benevolent intents all along, you old soft reptile.”</p><p>“Wuh- pff- hnk! Absolutely not! This, this… will lead to pride. Sinful! There you go!”</p><p>“Yes, yes, very evil of you. You absolute degenerate, unholy fiend.” Aziraphale turns his face away and smiles warmly, but keeps his scolding tone when he says, “I should have known!” </p><p>Crowley dons a wide grin, shrugs and almost hops in between steps as he walks back into town. </p><p>“Let’s go home, Angel, this weather is dreadful.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sup! If you like my writing, angels, and/or blasphemy, you might like my podcast BE NOT AFRAID. It's at spotify, youtube, itunes etc etc. Find out more on: <br/>http://www.metatronspeaks.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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